


Glimpse the Past

by Apollumist



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, gratuitous use of headcanons, reference to canon-typical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 20:59:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9090487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apollumist/pseuds/Apollumist
Summary: Tarn has died and is forced to look back at milestones in his life.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working for over two months on a full Tarn backstory. I hope to get it all finished before his actual backstory is revealed, but who knows with my creative luck. I wrote this drabble as a little inspiration piece/teaser for it.

One step. One memory. Yet another step. Yet another mistake echoing through his senses. He walked through a room of mirrors, each reflecting his darkest moments and greatest triumphs, dulled out and grey like the corpse he once inhabited. He clenched his fists and shut his eyes, but there was no escape. He knew what had to be done. He opened his eyes and looked.

Damus ran frantically through shadowed hallways, clutching at malfunctioning equipment. His face distorted in anger as he raged, shouting at the doctors that watched him with worried expressions. He stopped as the items in his hands resumed normal function and dropped them off at a tech’s desk, sighing in exhaustion as he stumbled to the break room.

Another mirror, another familiar face, one that he used to see every day. Damus, hands clutching the life support machine in desperation as it shorted out, a patient dying as he watched, unable to make the machine work again.

Damus, storming deeper into the hospital, coming face to face with the generator. The brightest light followed by waves of black emptiness. Grabbing hands hauling him away, forcing him to kneel while testimony was given, name after name read while the death toll rose. An entire hospital’s worth, gone.

Another step forward. Another mistake.

Glitch. No hands, no face. No identity, on the streets. Raging at himself, at anyone who would listen, everything he touched dying in the claws he was left with. He was dying. No energon, no hope.

The Senator. The Academy. The warmth. It flashed so fast, and it was gone in a wave, burned to crumbles just like the senator had been.

The memories were going faster, not enough detail, just feeling. More steps, each agonizing as he was forced to look, really look.

The Decepticons. Lobe. Grindcore. The Commandant reigning supreme over a kingdom of torture. Skids. Skids. Skids. He couldn’t look, but each move was agony, even one as simple as closing his optics. Was this his fate, his punishment?

Megatron. Megatron. Megatron. Megatronmegatronmegatronmegatronmegatron—Purpose. Reason. Justice. All playing out in front of him, his ascension, no longer was he a medic, a mistake, a Commandant. A new name. A True Name.

Just like that, it lifted. The weight pressing on him dissipated and he looked into a mirror at a greyed out corpse. Beyond it was a light, behind him were the mirrors and the void. With a fearful sigh, Tarn transformed and drove forward.


End file.
